The Man and the Machine
by zweasley
Summary: My explanation of the time when Moriarty kidnaps Watson right before sending him back to Sherlock (Season One, The Great Game) This is my first fanfiction, so tell me if you want me to continue it or anything. It's probably not that good. Sorry. Okay, enjoy reading it I guess.
1. Chapter 1

_Where am I?_ Watson woke to the feeling of cold cement beneath him and a dripping on his forehead. His hand was snapped back to the ground quickly as he reached upwards to wipe the water from his face. _What?_ Watson turned his head, scratching himself on the rough cement, and found his hands and legs strapped to poles in the ground. He tested the weight of the chains as the previous night's memories washed over him.

"Where is he?" Watson tried to scream; his voice was muffled by a gag in his mouth. John Watson, ever the soldier mentality, tried to sit up and pull the old rag away from his mouth, but both these actions were to no avail. His body rose about an inch from the ground before he was slammed back down into the hard floor. Watson knew he had to warn Sherlock, but how?

"Not feeling so well now are we, Doctor?" Watson looked up. He knew that voice; it was high pitched and maniacal and sent chills down his spine. _But that's impossible! Surely it can't be- _

"Have you caught on yet?" Said the voice, as John Watson's eyes searched hungrily across the room, trying to find the source. Suddenly, a wall that was solid a minute ago flipped backward, sending up little puffs of dust and sending out a short man."It's simple really, but I won't explain until we are joined by our friend, Sherlock." Moriarty, for that is who he was, smiled smugly and walked closer to Watson. "Do you recognize me then?" Watson was unsure how much he should let on. If he nodded yes it would surely speed his death closer. If he shook his head no, he might anger his captor. He comprised with a noncommittal shrug- as best he could from lying down- and waited for response. This was clearly not the answer Moriarty had hoped for.

"You really don't see it?" He asked, almost whining. "Oh come on! Well I'll leave it as a surprise until little Sherly comes along then shall we?" Moriarty smiled then at the disgusted face Watson made. "What, you don't like me to call him Sherly? Don't you know that's what his true friends call him?" Moriarty's smile broadened at his own words. "Friends did I say? I meant his family. And by that I mean dear, little Mycroft."

_He knows too much._ Watson struggled to keep a blank face as the man took another step closer. _How does he know all this? Who told him?_ Watson couldn't begin to think who. Surely only Mycroft would know of Sherlock's nickname. Watson himself had never called him anything besides Sherlock or Holmes, so it was not from he the maniac had acquired the information. Watson tasted something funny in his mouth and looked up. The steady dripping on his forehead had moved down to the rag. He soon found it was not water at all.

Moriarty smiled. "Ah, there we are. It seems someone placed the drip too high. Well, one can't always trust the help." The accompanying chuckle raised goosebumps all over his skin. Moriarty was feet from him now, and reaching with his foot to touch Watson's side. As the fine Italian leather shoe hit his ribs, Watson's brain exploded in pain. _A bruise! _Watson screamed inside his head, all the while maintaining a poker face. Moriarty smiled again and brought his foot back for an even harder kick. Watson tried to pull away, but his chains were strong and he could not escape the hurt. As he vomited from the pain, he tried to aim for Moriarty and his pants.

"Now really. Now I have to change, all because you can't handle pain. Poor little baby Johnny." Moriarty said, a mockingly baby voice as he started walking back to the wall opening. "I'll be back soon and then we can go meet the great Sherlock Holmes. I'm a big fan you know," Moriarty sneered, coupling his frown with a wink.

_I need to get out. I need to warn Sherlock! How am I going to do it? If I was Sherlock, how would I-_ Watson's head slumped back down and hit the ground hard. Although his head was bruised, he didn't wake up. The chloroform from the drip was finally taking effect.


	2. Chapter 2

_*Author's Note: Like I posted chapter 1 and didn't think anyone would care and then I was checking my email and people liked it and I was like ? Thanks you guys. Big ego boost*_

__Watson woke quietly; his throbbing head a reminder of his whereabouts. He tested his mouth and found the gag was gone, replaced with a scratching dryness.

_Chloroform. _The voice in his head that sounded suspiciously like Sherlock's confirmed his fears. He tested his arms and found his shoulders unable to hold up their weight. _How long have I been out? Has Sherlock even noticed? _John shrugged off his last question and tried at lifting an arm again. When he failed there, he tried his legs. His mind screamed at them to stand but his body wouldn't listen. A sudden pain in his side pierced his concentration and forced him to give up. He lie there, feeling more vulnerable than ever he had in war, and closed his eyes.

_What if Moriarty isn't coming back? What if I die here? Will Sherlock look for_ _me?_ Watson once again ignored his wandering mind and tried to take stock of the situation.

As his head swiveled about, John noticed his chains had been removed. _About time, what is this, the sixteenth century? God knows this certainly isn't a castle,_ he thought as his eyes searched for walls or other distinctions in the dark around him. They found nothing. There was a skylight above him, shedding enough light to illuminate only his body and the cold cement he lie on, but the rest of the room lie shrouded in the dark. The cold, pressing dark. After his stint in the war, Watson had developed a great dislike of the dark- especially when he was alone. He imagined thousands of beasts- or were they soldiers?- pressing closer and closer as he lay helpless.

Just as the monsters seemed to be about to pounce, the revolving wall opened again to reveal an even worse danger. _Moriarty. _

"Oh hi Johnny. You're awake I see. Oh, no use trying to pretend you weren't just lying wide eyed and afraid." Moriarty walked ever closer, hands in suit pockets, as he looked down on Watson. "Imagine; a soldier afraid of the dark. Not very brave, is it Johnny?" Watson struggled to speak, releasing only gurgles. His attempts forced a laugh from the pitiless man above him.

"Oh yes, chloroform does tend to take a bit to wear off, does it not?" Watson lie in wait, knowing when he regained control of his body, he could attack at will. "Now, lets start asking questions." Moriarty started circling John, looking for the best site for injury. Watson felt his little finger shift slightly as Moriarty walked past.

"So, who would you say is most important to our ickle little Sherly?" Watson made no attempts to answer, merely concentrated more on moving his whole hand. _Nearly there!_

"Go on. Tell me." Moriarty settled himself at the same side he had bruised earlier and brought back his foot. "If you don't speak now, I'll have to hurt you again." Moriarty smiled, brought his foot down slowly and poked at the bruise he had left. Watson knew what he was up to. _It's a game. All a game. He knows I can't talk right now! He's just bored!_

Watson could deal with bored.

He lie, still not answering as Moriarty raised his foot again. Watson looked into his eyes and saw the detached look that so often adorned Sherlock's face. As Moriarty's foot sped towards his ribs once more, Watson struck out with his hand, grabbing onto the man's ankle just before contact.

Watson continued staring into Moriarty's face as his face broke into a grin.

"You almost surprised me, Johnny." Moriarty shook Watson's hand off his ankle. "Pity. I don't like surprises, John." Moriarty looked up towards the sunroof and nodded. The window quickly slid to the side and a cloaked man appeared.

_What is this fresh hell? _Watson thought as he heard a slight hiss and felt the sting of a dart in his arm.

__"Good night, princess." Moriarty stage whispered as Watson slipped into a drugged sleep once more.


End file.
